winds esker               
  
                                          
 there was this place that for two  years 
 i couldn't go  to.  regardless how  much 
 discussed with others,  or  pointed  out 
 on maps,  i  could not think of  it when 
 alone.  i would  often travel  past  the 
 fork, where  a  right turn would  surely 
 take me there, but even then,  something 
               kept me away.              
                                          
 when  i  finally got  there, after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,   the  place  was  surreal.   an 
 esker,  like  a  needle-thin rift out in 
 the  lake,   but  ten  meters  high  and 
 adorned  in birch, willow, bracken,  and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice  the  view to either  side. there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't  recognize them. first  off, they 
 were much too  close, as the lake should 
 stretch for  a  hundred  meters more  on 
 both  sides. but  now  i  felt  i  could 
 almost  reach  out and  touch  them. and 
 then, when i realized which  shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they  were  of the right  lake. but this 
      lake is large, fractured, and       
 bipartite. like a pair  of lungs  carved 
 into the  granite, and with no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
    impossibly close shores, i slowly     
 understood them  as belonging many miles 
                   away.                  
                                          
 i  examined   the  ridge,  the  treeline 
 above. was this  what you saw  opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                remember.                 
                                          
 carrying  forward, on  the  very tip  of 
 the  esker, i found  the ruins  of  some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
 marble staircases, stone floors beneath  
 the  moss, and  strange  slabs  inserted 
 into  the  slope like  dams against  the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there, i  could see  across  the 
 narrowed  lake my entire path to where i 
 sat:  from the  stairwell  of my  house, 
 through  the old woods  behind  the tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and  then  back under  it, 
 through  the  fancy  villas,   over  the 
 fields, and  then that right turn at the 
                  fork.                   
                                          
 and  then  the  stairs up on the  ridge. 
 thinking  back, this  was  probably  it. 
 hidden  in  a grove,  there were  stairs 
 much like the  ones i currently sat  on, 
 old and  worn down,  that  lead  you  up 
 onto  the esker. the point of entry. had 
 i  insted opted to walk  the path at its 
 foot, i'm sure  my  experience  would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the   lake,  there  were  people  in 
 boats. i wondered, could they  even  see 
 me? if  i  shouted,  would they  turn to 
         stare right through me?